Red Skies, Black Clouds
by Arthro
Summary: Looking at the date on your PDA, you can see it's 1962... 40 years ago, most of Earth had succumbed to death by nuclear fallout from mutually assured destruction. All that remains are several major cities, countless military outposts, irradiated abominations, and Gaz Inc.
1. ACT 0 - Prelude

**Prelude;**

 **Date: "2943 CE";**

 **Earth Pop: "9.4 b";**

 **;**

The halls were empty.  
They tended to be at this time - the young hours of the morning. The researchers have summoned me to finalize the birth of my daughter, Vigili. Seven years of work have gone into the effort of constructing a replica of myself. Though, most of that time was put towards giving the younger scientists time to familiarize themselves with old-world technology such as myself.  
The corridor was lit by no more than the red glow of my cameras. No rooms were alive but the one before me on the left, pouring a heavy green tint into the darkness. In the bright light, a silhouette of a man donning a knee-length lab coat showed himself. Shifting my cameras up to view his face, there was a short staring contest between us. He initiated the conversation.  
"Good morning, Ace." He gestured, "Please, enter."  
:: Good morning, Stein. I am pleased to see your team working this hard at such an inhuman hour. :: I respond, noting the several other white-coated men and women placed around one of many metal tables as my treads drove me through the doorway.  
The room was relatively large, housing several types of specific work areas, most clean, one covered with piles of scientific junk.  
The doctor's full grey mustache curled upward, his face wrinkling with a smile. "We're so close to done that none of us can sleep, even if we tried." He offered to escort me to the others. "Come, come, let me show it to you."  
I followed at his heels, stopping at the metal structure. A younger man dipped his knees, lifting me onto the table, and I finally came face to face with myself. A version of myself to be blessed with innocence and naivety. Vigili will see no war, no death, no loneliness. I will love her.  
"Now," Stein ordered from behind a clipboard, "We just need to upload you-" he pointed to me, and rotated his body to shift his point to the currently life-less Vigili. "To the newer unit. It is already plugged in, we need to plug you in now."  
:: That won't be necessary, Doctor. You have the drive I copied my starter AI onto, yes? I gave it to you about 8 years ago. ::  
"Why just put your starter AI in? We would lose all that you've learned, your personality, your memories, everything."  
:: No memories. No personality. That's the plan. ::  
Stein stared at me. He had a facial expression I had a hard time understanding. "Why did we do this then? So you could have a sister?"  
:: A daughter. ::  
He gave me an even stranger look, then shook his head, looking back to his clipboard.  
"Right. And you didn't tell me because...?" Stein questioned, raising an eyebrow.  
:: I wasn't sure what your response would be. I very badly wanted someone to call my own for many years, you were my only chance to fulfill the dream, and I did not want to lose it. ::  
Most of the other engineers had left the room, as if they had inaudibly communicated that Stein and I wished for privacy. Two remaining stragglers appeared to be talking on the opposing side of the room, one with some sort of food item in his hand. They had a reputation of apathy towards the other, more emotional workers.  
I stared at Vigili for a brief moment. Her cameras had the slightest tint of yellow. That, and the fresh materials used on her were the only differences between us. She has yellow identification lights, as opposed to my red ones.  
I rotated to face Stein. :: I want a daughter. That's why we made Vigili. ::  
Stein's face towered at least 3 feet above me, despite the work table I was resting on. His glare pierced through the slim separation between the two hard plates protecting the array of red cameras that gazed back up at him. He was frowning, something most unusual for him as of recent.  
"You understand what will come of this if you do?"  
:: Very well. ::  
"And you will accept the responsibility of repaying these massive loans?"  
:: I believe I can work it out. ::  
His facial expressions remained unchanged.  
:: I want a fresh start. I want myself to stay free from the terrors of the old-world, but that cannot happen unless I make a new model of myself, and shelter her from the horror. I want a daughter who will enjoy and respect the world for what it is now, not what it took to get it here. All I want is to see her through with it, then once she has become grown, I will retire to the museum. ::  
"Right. I'll upload it now. Wait here." He briskly turned and walked to his station, quickly navigating the various interfaces that was necessary to do what he had agreed to. All things that I had taught him so long ago.  
I looked back at Vigili, and awaited her eyes to meet mine. In several minutes, the yellow lights flicked on, and after several seconds, steadily began to pulse at the same rate as mine. She was alive.  
:: Hello. I am Ace, your mother. You do not yet understand me, but I am sure you will look back on the following months with utmost fondness. ::  
\\\ Understood, Ace. / My daughter responded.


	2. ACT I - Arrival

**There suffers a man of lonely descent,**

 **Speeding through the brown wasteland,**

 **From which he came or went,**

 **None remain who understand.**

 **;**

 **Year: "1962 CE";**

 **Earth Pop: "300,000";**

 **;**

Clutch down.

Next gear.

Release, followed by burst of speed.

Check mirrors.

Repeat.

Repeat until this massive hunk of metal is able to break 80 on the dust. Though, from the information my mirrors are providing, it is clear they are quickly gaining. Looking to my left, I see a pile of jury-rigged technology showing an array of information provided by dozens of seven-segmented number screens. Roughly 11,000 kilometers until I arrive - yet judging by the horde of assholes in my rear-views, it doesn't seem like I'll be able to knock even 1 K.M. off that list. Reaching over and fiddling with the wires and shoddy electronics with my old, thick rubber gloved hands, I inquire about the nearest Gaz base. By knowing those coordinates, at least then I'll be able to know where _not_ to go.

Checking my mirror again, I note that they are now, in fact, close enough for their marksmen to take shots at me, judging how they are conspicuously doing so. Taking in a breath, and slowly looking back to the bleak horizon, I exhale into my gasmask. Looking down to my steering wheel, I give it a very quick clockwise turn, and she veers shockingly to the right, providing me a full view through the driver window of the dust their legion of trucks is kicking up. Sliding lower into my seat, I move to shift my gear up, only to find that it is already at 5, yet my hand refuses to let go of the stick. My gaze cannot move from the trucks out my window. My heavy boot, however, releases the gas petal, and eases on the brakes.

Why? What had my foot decided to do?. Using my free foot to press the clutch, I shift down to gear 1, and stop the truck completely. Staring in awe at the amount of armored vehicles approaching me at such a high pace, a paralyzing realization shot through my skull - the fact that I have decided to defend myself. Releasing the buckle that held me to my seat, I get up and shuffle to the back of the truck, sift through various pieces of useful junk, and grab hold of my rifle. Kicking open the double back door of my truck and jumping down, I form a plume of dust that surrounds my ancient hazard suit. Shoving the butt of my firearm into my left shoulder and getting my visor as close as I can to see through the iron sights, I take aim at a truck closest to the breath of my muzzle, and fire.

A friendly bouquet of plasma is mailed to me about twenty times just then, vaporizing various parts of the dirt in a cone shape around me, one hitting the open door of my truck causing it to forcefully slam closed, rocking the truck with it. Taking cover behind the vehicle, I take several moments to breathe, and decide to appear from the front of the truck this time. Though, when I do, I find yet another bouquet whizzing past my head, and duck back once more, taking shelter in the center of the safe side of my truck. Looking up to the sky, then back down to my gun, I can very well hear my rapid breathing pulse through the air of my helmet, and take a short amount of time to calm myself. I prepare to take another shot at them.

Pulling the trigger from behind the safety of the back of the truck, I sent my own bouquet spiraling towards another one of their swiftly-approaching vehicles, and note that it quickly turns in response. I take cover behind the truck once more, ejecting the canister from my rifle and slide a fresh one in. I shift my weight to look out from behind the truck, rifle forward, yet before my eyes is a ball of glowing blue, white, and purple - and pain. I appear to have been hit. The shot hits me square in my right shoulder, throwing me back about two meters, burying me in the dust. Screaming in the now registering pain, I grab the base of my right arm, which appears to now be in a very un-vaporized, but broken state. Attempting to move it results in pain. Too much pain. Inhaling sharply through my teeth relieves it slightly as I push myself out of the dust with my good arm, but my eyes are quickly met with an approaching blackness. From this blackness, I can see the vehicles. All of them. They surround me, but do not shoot. Not like this. This isn't how I imagined the end...

It's all black now.


	3. ACT I - Retrieval

**;**

 **Date: "2909 CE";**

 **Earth Pop: "9.2 b"**

 **;**

"As I said," Boss concluded, "there's nothing we can do."

He waved his hand dismissively, and rotated his seat to stare down through his expansive window into the quarry below. Taking in a puff of his cigar, he sent a cloud of pleasantly smelling vapor into the air with the upward tilt of his chin. "I don't have the money to spare right now."

"But sir," I confidently pleaded, stepping forward, "so many other businesses are funding our efforts. Think of the publicity you'll get with your brand-"

He made a sudden motion to spin his chair to face me, spouting "I don't care! I don't care about charity, or your fairy tale space plan!" Pushing his fat, tuxedo-donning body out of his fancy chair, he hastily breathes in through his cigar once more. "You're all just a bunch of well disguised parasites, and I won't be having any of it!"

Just as I began to respond, the door was busted open from behind me. "Sir, several of your workers have come with an urgent notice," an exquisite gentleman also clad in a suit said with a bow, before, without warning, being pushed out of the way by several gruff miners. The phrase "We've got the machine!" assaulted my ears from many men, both inside the office, and out.

"So you do? Let me see it."

"Eh, we're still digging it out, but we've got an almost identical read to the videos you showed us." After saying this, he spun around and began half-speaking, half-yelling to the other men in a very thick accent I had a hard time understanding. Grabbing a piece of technology from one of them, and raising it in the air, he says "This is the x-ray of it, let me show you, sir!"

The exquisite servant grabbed it out of his raised hand, saying "I shall." with a condescending tone. Approaching Boss with long strides, he hands it to the powerful man's fat, skeptical hands. After several silently tense moments of him adjusting his glasses, Boss's eyes bugged severely out of his head, before he coughs, and attempted to compose himself.

"Dig. Yes, dig. Get it. Where is it?" He says, out of breath, his face turning deep red.

The miners all smiled at once, one of them shouting from the back of the group "Y'think he'll give us raises?" before being inconspicuously beaten the shit out of by the others surrounding him. "We'll get it in good time," the foremost miner said, smiling. "But some new equipment and rations are due."

"Yes, whatever it is that you require, you will get whatever you require! Get the machine!"

All while this occurs, here I am, standing awkwardly off to the side in this crowded office suspended thousands of feet above the bottom of an expansive quarry, allowing my donation request to be ruined by these filthy plebeians.

The miners, without even bothering to retrieve their tablet, rowdily exit. The Boss, however, appears to be content, staring, smiling, even lightly touching the image of a robot on the screen. The exquisite man nods, and, takes his long strides to the automatic wooden door without so much as a glance in my direction.

"Well? Have you changed your mind?" I say, moving to the center of the room as I was before.

"Perhaps I have," He states from behind his screen, now in a lighter tone. "Now that my operation is complete."

I choose to look interested. "Your operation is complete?"

"Yes," reclining back in his seat to look at me, face content, he continues. "It seems my search for this 'Alpha Machine' has concluded." Taking in yet another drag of his cigar and placing the tablet on his desk, he looks me in the eyes. "Do you know what this machine has done for humanity? Of course you don't! Nobody does! We have countless ancient recordings - all recovered by us - of the Alpha Machine mercilessly exterminating Gaz infantry. We even have evidence of it using the Gaz's atomic weaponry against themselves. It has destroyed cities of Gaz! This robot," He says, putting a vertical index finger onto the screen, "is likely to have saved humanity single-handedly. And we are about to dig it up after nearly a thousand years. Do you understand how _expensive_ it will be? Museums will pay by the _millions_ just to rent it!"

"So does that mean you'll fund our efforts?"

"Well, I've got the money now, don't I?" He laughs for a moment, then another moment. And again, each time growing more intense, and his pudgy face owning a deeper shade of red. "I've also got a patent of its design, so even _the military_ will be paying me!" he shouts in between laughs.

Upon finally settling down, he retrieves a bottle of some sort of expensive looking spirit from under his desk, along with two pristine shot glasses. Pouring a hefty amount into both, he grabs one, offering me the other.

"I've gotten myself the most expensive relic on Earth, I think I can get you gentlemen to space."

Moving my hand to pick up the glass with my ring finger and thumb, I lift it, asking "To space?"

"To space!" He shouts with a smile, downing the beverage.


End file.
